ore dinner; they are
more beautiful of their kind than the ancient Fontainebleau oaks. That
is for art. At dinner, I dined nobly and well. To do the Bergenheims
justice, they live in a royal manner. That is for the stomach. Afterward
I stealthily ordered a horse to be saddled and rode to La Fauconnerie
in a trice, where I presented the expression of my adoration to
Mademoiselle Reine Gobillot, a minor yet, but enjoying her full rights
already. That is for the heart."

"Indeed!"

"No sarcasm, if you please; not everybody can share your taste for
princesses, who make you go a hundred leagues to follow them and then
upon your arrival, only give you the tip of a glove to kiss. Such
intrigues are not to my fancy.

Je suis sergent,
Brave--"

"Again, I say, will you stop that noise? Don't you know that I have
nobody on my side at present but this respectable dowager on the first
floor below? If she supposes that I am making all this racket over her
head we shall be deadly enemies by to-morrow."

"Zitto, zitto, piano, piano,
Senza strepito e rumore,"

replied Marillac, putting his finger to his lips and lowering his voice.
"What you say is a surprise to me. From the way in which you offered
your arm to Madame de Bergenheim to lead her into the drawing-room
after supper, I thought you understood each other perfectly. As I was
returning, for I made it my duty to offer my arm to the old lady--and
you say that I do nothing for you--it seemed to me that I noticed a
meeting of hands--You know that I have an eagle eye. She slipped a note
into your hand as sure as my name is Marillac."

Gerfaut took the note which he held crumpled up in his hand, and held it
in the flame of one of the candles. The paper ignited, and in less than
a second nothing of it remained but a few dark pieces which fell into
ashes upon the marble mantel.

"You burn it! You are wrong," said the artist; "as for me, I keep
everything, letters and hair. When I am old, I shall have the letters to
read evenings, and shall weave an allegorical picture with the hair. I
shall hang it before my desk, so as to have before me a souvenir of the
adorable creatures who furnished the threads. I will answer for it that
there will be every shade in it from that of Camille Hautier, my first
love, who was an albino, to this that I have here."

As he spoke, he took out of his pocket a small parcel from which he drew
a lock of coal-